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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25511782">The Ballad of Erik the Orator</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFalls/pseuds/PandaFalls'>PandaFalls</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>PandaFalls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:48:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25511782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFalls/pseuds/PandaFalls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending for a part of the Ballad of Buster Scrugs, with m/m romance added in</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So it had come to this, as they’d always knew it would. Limbless and quiet, Erik was as helpless as ever as Driver unbuckled his stump of a body from his wooden stand and pulled him from the covered wagon that had served as their home during all those years they’d spent together on the road. </p><p>Being born in such a primitive form and at such a primitive era had meant that Erik’s life was already written for him. Doomed was he as a child to smile wistfully at the children playing in the woods while he sat on the front porch and tried to ignore the sounds of his parents bickering about their finances again and again. Predestined was his path from that old Russian farm to the hands of a travelling circus master for a moderate sum of money. Inevitable was the decline of the circus in America and his final partnership with the old wagon driver who never spoke to him. By now, there was no need for words. Erik knew his lot. The moment Driver set him on that chair up on stage, he knew what to do. </p><p>He spoke. All of the time he’d spent with a book propped up on a stand to entertain him in his youth, all of the stories he’d read once and then many times more when the small town library ran out of new things to offer him, it all led to this, the only thing he knew how to do for the circus and Driver.</p><p>“I met a traveller from an antique land who said —‘Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert’...”</p><p>He recited everything that came to mind and as always, it came to him like a flood breaking through a weakened dam. All of his thoughts, fears, passions and emotions all laid out for his audience to see in the form of other people’s prose and poetry. Driver sat to the side, uninterested, waiting for the end like one waits for their turn in the outhouse. Then the curtains would close and Erik would hear the jingle of coins as Driver collected the money he would give to the next prostitutes that looked his way... oh and yes, a bit on the side for some food too.</p><p>Erik wasn’t surprised the day he saw the chicken. Upset, of course, but not the least bit surprised. It was the next step. The next act. The chicken that could do arithmetic. Well worth Driver’s brothel money, considering how much more cash it would bring in the future. He watched Driver with the same wide doe-eyed stare he’d always had, those two brilliantly blue eyes taking in absolutely everything he could see on the end of his craned neck as Driver pondered a bridge between towns, curiously tossed a large stone into the water, nodded to himself, and then headed back towards the wagon. </p><p>Erik couldn’t help but cry. Silently, of course, so as to only be seen and not heard. But cry he did, tears streaming down his cheeks as he mourned the end of his life as all reasonable living beings should- even the limbless ones. He did not beg. Why beg? Why speak? Why fight the thread of fate? He only sniffled softly, breaths ragged and body trembling as he awaited the cold end; the final act. </p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>Erik opened his eyes. He tried to turn his head to see the origin of the voice, but his body was angled very decisively towards the river below. He could only listen, helpless in Driver’s grasp. </p><p>“That’s the limbless orator, isn’t it?”</p><p>“...Yeh, so what?”</p><p>“What are you doing with him?”</p><p>“Retirin’im. Got me a ‘rithmatic chicken.”</p><p>“You can’t do that!”</p><p>“Says who?”</p><p>“Says me! You... You can’t just... I’ll take him!”</p><p>“...How much?”</p><p>“How much?? You’re about to throw him off a bridge!”</p><p>“Still can.” Erik felt himself sway out towards the water. </p><p>“No no no no! Okay okay, um what do I have on me. U-um five dollars!”</p><p>“Only five?”</p><p>“You made one and a half in my town, I saw your hat. Five is more than generous! Give him here!”</p><p>And just like that, the thread of Erik’s fate was yanked off of its path. One moment he was suspended over the icy cold of an inevitable end and the next he was being deposited into the arms of a particularly sweaty cowboy. </p><p>“Okay. Whew! That was a close one, huh, friend? What kind of sonuva bitch tosses a man over a bridge? ...oh, gaddummit, I’m sorry, I’m all sweaty, hang on... I gotta sack here... I can sling you over my back... aaaaand there we go! That’s better! Hope you don’t mind watching everything in reverse, heheh. Anyway, my name’s Michael, what’s yours? Not much of a talker huh? That’s funny cuz that’s all you did on stage! Ma says silence is golden but sometimes I find it kind of lonely and all, but I get the feeling yer a good lis’ner ain’t ya....”</p><p>On and on and on he went. Erik felt like he had the entire man’s biography by the time they finally came to a stop at this talkative man’s ranch. He’d already been given the lowdown on the entire family, so meeting them for the first time felt like maybe the second or third encounter. There were Michael’s two little nieces who were always underfoot, much to Michael’s glee; his brother and his sister in law who were still trying to play matchmaker for him; his mama who apparently made the best collared greens this side of the river; his Great Aunt Lucile who quoted Bible verses so often you’d think they were punctuation... </p><p>Erik’s only greeting to this family was his wide-eyed gaze, taking everything in, trying to make sense of it all. The family crooned over how shy he must be to not be talking, and then they took him inside and let the two eager little girls take turns spoon feeding him broth and asking him questions that he didn’t know how to begin to answer. </p><p>Up until now, every sad turn in his life had made complete sense to him. But this? He’d never been more overwhelmed in his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Uncle Michael?”</p>
<p>“Uh huh?”</p>
<p>“How come he can’t talk?”</p>
<p>Michael glanced to his niece as he worked, taking care not to get too distracted from sewing shut the severed sleeve of Erik’s new shirt, lest he prick the quiet man. “He can. I seen it. He knows Shakespeare and all that fancy stage stuff. I think he just not use to makin’ conversation.”</p>
<p>“He stupid or somethin’?”</p>
<p>“Annemarie! He kin hear, ya know! Say sorry!”</p>
<p>The little 7 year old tucked her chin, pouting down at her dirty bare feet. “Sorry...”</p>
<p>“He’s smart. Probably smarter than all of us. Like I said, I heard him talk Shakespeare. Huh, friend. You know Shakespeare, right? Tell ‘er.”</p>
<p>Erik’s eyes remained on Michael’s sunburned face as he nodded. Michael leaned back with a satisfied sigh, reaching for the scissors to cut the last of the thread. “There. Now you have a proper Sundee shirt. Preacher Dan will be happy to see this. Ain’t he look handsome, Annemarie?”</p>
<p>Erik blushed. He wasn’t used to the amount of attention he’d received over the past week. The family had made such a fuss getting him settled in. They’d cleaned out an old manger and lined it with blankets so that he could sleep next to Michael’s bed at night. They’d rushed to sew him proper clothing and find him a good hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. At dinner they would ask him how much of each dish he wanted on his plate and his eyes would go wide, terror crossing his face at the unfamiliar prospect of being given a choice. It felt like a trap. The nieces were getting good at feeding him. Sometimes they got too eager and stuffed his mouth full, but he obviously wasn’t one to complain.</p>
<p>At night, Michael would talk softly to him about everything and nothing, grinning at Erik like they were sharing a secret. The man bewildered him the most out of everyone in the family, but Erik had no trouble become attached to the energetic ball of friendliness. He silently drank in the man’s unrelenting friendship every time they had their one-sided conversations. One night, a small noise arose from his throat. </p>
<p>“...Erik.”</p>
<p>“H-huh? Is... that your name?”</p>
<p> “...Yes.”</p>
<p>“Erik. Very nice.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Erik, do you remember that one part of your act about the rose? D’ya think you could say it for me? I wanna hear how it goes again.”</p>
<p>Erik smiled. Talking was hard, but reciting was easy. He closed his eyes, tone turning theatrically wistful as he began to recite. “O my love is like a red, red rose...”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh please oh please oh please!”</p><p>“Michael, are you twenty two or two?”</p><p>“I’ve worked so hard on it, Pastor Dan! Look at him! It’s like he has legs again!”</p><p>“Michael, I draw the line at preaching to pooping ponies from the pulpit.”</p><p>“That’s a literalation. Erik taught me about those.”</p><p>“Alliteration,” Erin quietly corrected under the noise of the two men’s conversation.</p><p>“It’s a matter of dignity, Preacher! Dignity! It ain’t right to be hauled into church like a sack o’ taters!”</p><p>“It’s okay, Michael.” Erik spoke a little louder this time, so as to be heard. Michael drooped in defeat at his friend’s acquiescence as the pastor walked away, looking to Erik as the limbless man moved off to park his pony. </p><p>The setup had been a lovely stroke of creativity on Michael’s part. He’d made a saddle with padded siding so that Erik couldn’t tilt out so easily, and then he’d made a sort of neck brace that sat on his shoulders the way a harmonica holder would so that he could set down and pick up the reigns with his mouth with ease. Michael was right, the pony was his legs. It was nice to have legs... even if they tended to lay some pretty stinky poops at times.</p><p>The sermon that day seemed to really get to Michael. The preacher spoke about duties and responsibilities; specifically the ones related to marriage. The more the preacher spoke stern lessons about spousal duties and made playful jabs to the young men and women about starting families, the more Michael seemed to want to run out of there. When service ended, the two of them wandered off to the creek to sit alone in the shade together. Erik could see the turmoil boiling up in Michael. He would have asked if the man was alright, but he knew it was a matter of minutes before the thoughts would come out on their own. </p><p>“What if I never have kids?”</p><p>“Why not?” Erik watched Michael from where he sat in the grass, rocking his abdomen a bit to turn himself to get a better view of his friend’s face. </p><p>“Well, I dunno if I’ll ever git a wife.”</p><p>“You will. You are handsome and kind.”</p><p>“Thanks, but it don’t matter.”</p><p>Michael seemed to be getting agitated again. Erik said nothing and waited patiently for the other shoe to drop.</p><p>“What if... What if I wasn’t all that... eager about women?” Michael glanced nervously at Erik, but those soulful blue eyes were staring back at him with the same amount of patience as always. “What if... I liked...”</p><p>“Men?”</p><p>Michael’s apprehension was painted all over his face like cherry stains on a pie tin. Erik’s expression was still calm. “Me too.”</p><p>Michael’s eyes went wide. “Y-you too? Wait wait wait, you... you...” Michael shook his head and looked out at the creek. Now it was his turned to be bewildered. “I, ah, okay, so we both-... You ever been with someone like that?”</p><p>“A man?”</p><p>“Y-yeah.”</p><p>“Look at me, Micheal.” Erik was as expressive as any man with arms, gesturing to himself with his head and expression while delivering a ‘duh’ look to his friend.</p><p>Michael’s face pinched up in annoyance. “Aw, Erik, c’mon.”</p><p>“It’s true.”</p><p>“You still pretty. Well hell, I’d kiss ya.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t.”</p><p>“Would too.”</p><p>“Would not.”</p><p>“How about this?”</p><p>“Eep!” Not the most manly way to enter your first kiss, but Erik really hadn’t seen it coming. It was quick and surface level, but it was enough to make Erik’s face turn bright red. </p><p>“Heehee you got a tomato face. That bad?”</p><p>Erik shook his head, though his eyes were wide. </p><p>“What if I did it again then?” Michael asked, a bit of hope entering his eyes. All he needed was a nod and he was back at it, taking his time with it now and going slow. All of this was certainly developing rather quickly, but Erik had been fantasizing about Michael for an embarrassingly long time now. It had all seemed about as likely as unicorns and fairy dust, but here they were... making out. </p><p>Erik wished he could embrace Michael. He was glad when the cowboy did it for him, scooping the man into his lap and holding him as they kissed. Funny, this all felt so natural to Erik, like a different kind of recital. It wasn’t Ozymandias or Shakespeare, but it felt just as familiar, just as fitting of a vent for all of the pent up feelings inside. When Michael finally broke away Erik made a little noise of disappointment, opening his eyes to find that usual goofy grin on the man’s face.</p><p>“I dunno about you, but that felt just right to me.”</p><p>Erik gave a breathy little giggle. “Me too.”</p><p>What an absolutely strange turn of events. Instead of sitting dead on the bottom of a river, Erik had just kissed a cowboy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you sure? I ain’t about to try somethin’ you ain’t keen on.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Yer really okay with it?”</p>
<p>“Michael, please.” If Erik had to guess, it was probably the major blush on his face that was giving Michael cause to pause. The orator was indeed a little nervous, but he didn’t come all this way with Michael to the seclusion of the lake to wimp out on making another fantasy a reality. With their horses grazing nearby, Erik’s “legs” were gone and he was helpless, but Michael’s worrying was making him a little impatient. “Please.”</p>
<p>“Okay, here we go!” Michael sat back, kneeling in front of where Erik was laid out on the moss so that he could unbutton his shirt. He stopped halfway through and flashed a grin, looking Erik up and down. “Whadaya know. The plumbing seems more than functional, don’t it?”</p>
<p>Erik squeaked and wriggled on the ground, but there wasn’t much to do about the semi he was sporting. </p>
<p>“Hey, hey, it’s fine, I’m sorry. That’s the point of this right? Here, look.” Michael left off on his shirt to stand, unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants. “See? Me too!”</p>
<p>Erik just about fainted right then and there. </p>
<p>Michael started out slow and careful, just having fun kissing Erik like they were used to while he undressed the man piece by piece. This was very normal for them now, and it was one of Erik’s favorite things to do with Michael. Sometimes at night the cowboy would pull Erik out of his manger bed and bring him into his own to hold him and kiss him and caress him. It was such an amazing feeling, having that strong body against his own and those roughened hands cupping his face and touching his body. Erik had the tendency to get overly excited by all of the touches, but Michael had been too afraid to do anything about it in a house with such thin walls and nosy family members. Erik had to wait, so Michael did too. The cowboy hadn’t touched himself all this time, which had impressed Erik. If Erik had hands, he would have rubbed one off ages ago. Sometimes in his manger he would turn himself over onto his stomach and rub himself against the blankets while Michael slept, quietly panting and shuddering but ultimately getting himself nowhere but more excited and more frustrated.</p>
<p>When Erik was naked Michael let his hands explore, running up and down the muscles in his abdomen that all that pony riding had built up. He kissed his chest, stroked his stomach, and even pulled a cute little squeak out of Erik when he squeezed his rear. Erik was starting to become very vocal. Michael was glad they’d decided to try this far away from town where no one would hear them. The moans really started up when Michael began to test out what he could do with those nipples, and they really didn’t stop except for Erik to shakily ask Michael to move things along after a bit. </p>
<p>Michael sat up and leaned his back against the shady oak trunk next to them, pulling Erik into his lap so that their members touched. Erik shuddered, looking down at the sight with wide eyes and watching as Michael reached between them and wrapped his hand around both. </p>
<p>“A-Ah! Ahh~ M-Michael~”</p>
<p>Michael pressed his lips to Erik’s, drinking in those moans and returning them with fervor. Occasionally he’d break away for a breath, his voice streaming praises. “Ah~ Oh, you’re so damn cute~ Holy moly, your skin is so soft! Good golly, Erik ❤️”</p>
<p>Erik had never felt so connected to someone in his life. He trusted Michael so completely and loved everything he was doing to them. Who had even come close to that in the past? No one. Not one person before Michael had asked him what he wanted for dinner, what his favorite poem was, where he’d like to go for break time, or any of the other basic decencies Michael and his family extended to Erik every day. Not one person had considered donating an entire pony to the sole cause of giving Erik more independence. No one had even stopped to imagine that maybe Erik was human too. But now here they were and Erik felt more than human. He felt almost invincible as he the pleasure climbed, his hips moving as eagerly as they could as he felt himself get closer and closer...</p>
<p>Ecstasy. Erik leaned back into the support of Michael’s free hand as his member jumped, spewing seed between them. Erik moaned and shivered, panting through the throws of his first orgasm as Michael’s hand slowed and moved away. He’d finished way before Michael did, but the cowboy had told him about this beforehand. Once the sensitivity had passed, he knew Michael’s hand would be back for round two. </p>
<p>“I love you,” the panting man breathed out as he looked up at Michael through hazy eyes.</p>
<p>“Well shoot, Erik,” Michael said with a bashful smile. “Wouldn’t ya know it, it turns out I love you too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael and Erik were nothing but grins and giggles on their way back home from the lake. They’d stayed there all night under their blankets, sharing intermittent passions and cuddles. Michael finally got to see the true extent of the emboldened Erik’s mobility, pleasantly surprised that he could move around on his own on the ground by engaging his ab muscles and walking his trunk of a body across the grass. Later on Michael found out how adept the man’s mouth was as well. He’d seen Erik write with a pencil, hold the reins, and do all sorts of things with his mouth, but that still didn’t stop him from being surprised at the eager blowjob he woke up to at one point in the night. Mmmm so much mouth play~ They’d had to stay at the lake for a while in the morning so that Michael could wash the cum stains out of the blankets before they left.</p><p>“I’ll bet we could find somewhere on the farm where we can get some privacy,” Michael mused as they rode. “Maybe the hay barn or somewhere a ways into the woods. Yew’d hafta be a little quieter. Though I do love hearing you yowl~”</p><p>Erik blushed silently, turning his head away to hide his smile. </p><p>“Aw c’mon, it’s cute and yew know it. Really got me goin’. Shoot, I gotta stop thinking about it ‘fore I get to excited again.” Erik glanced to Michael as the man reached down to adjust his semi in his pants, the pony-rider’s eyes wide. Erik was pretty exhausted from the night before, but it seemed Michael could go at it forever. “Stop lookin’ at me like that, Erik, yew already know you make me wanna make like a rabbit.”</p><p>Yes, Erik knew it, but it was still confusing to him. He still would give Michael puzzled looks when he got compliments on his form.</p><p>The conversation died down as they neared the ranch. Michael had grown unusually quiet, his eyes focused on the unfamiliar tracks on the road. </p><p>They arrived in front of the house to find a tense scene before them. Guns were drawn. Tears streamed down the ladies’s faces. A man held one of the nieces in his grip, his gun pointed directly at her head. “I know yew folks have ‘im and ain’t leaving until I got ‘im!”</p><p>“Hey!” Michael shouted as he drew his gun behind the man. “You let her go now before you do somethin’ I’ll make you regret.”</p><p>Erik’s eyes went wide as the man turned around, the limbless man immediately breaking down into quiet, vocal tears. It was Driver. His fate had come back for him after all. </p><p>Driver smiled a tobacco stained grin. “There he is. Woulja lookit that, my show pony ridin’ a show pony. C’mere Erik. My chicken don’t work. I’m takin’ yew back.”</p><p>Erik shook his head fervently as he cried. Michael continued to point the gun. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya piece ‘o shit. I’m liable ta hurt anyone that hurts my family, so jus’ let my little sweet niece go and we can part ways all peaceful like.”</p><p>“Imma shoot ‘er if you don’t git yer ass over here, Erik. Yew know I will.”</p><p>Erik sobbed, shaking his head as his body dropped. He’d seen this man kill before. He knew what he was capable of. He couldn’t think of any way this scenario ended well, but in at least one of them he could keep his new family safe. </p><p>He clicked his tongue. Michael tried to reach out for Erik’s reins but was too late. The pony walked over to the man and the tearful niece as Driver laughed. “There we go. Good boy. C’mon, let’s git you off that dumb animal.” Driver let go of the girl and ignored her as he pulled Erik in front of him like a shield and moved his gun to the boy’s jaw. “No guarantee I won’t pull if yew shoot me,” he warned. “Quit yer bawling, yew spineless dandy. Quit, I said!”</p><p>Erik couldn’t stop. His acceptance of death by drowning had been so quiet and easy before he met Michael, but now the prospect of life as a freak act again wracked his body and soul like claws through flesh. He continued to cry as Driver slowly walked them out of there, gun firmly pressed against Erik’s jaw. The men of the family followed, trying their best to talk the man out of it and failing. First Michael’s brother went away. Then, after hours of attempted negotiations, Michael did too.</p><p>Erik’s heart broke. He cried so much that Driver ended up gagging him to keep some sort of illusion of peace and quiet. He was too upset to eat as each day on the road went on, his soul slowly shrinking away inside him. He’d gained everything and then lost it in one fell swoop. He wanted to die.</p><p>“Yew gotta eat,” Driver urged on the third night.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Since when do yew give lip? What have they been teachin’ yew over there? You tryna starve to death, boy?”</p><p>“That sounds nice. And I’m not your boy.”</p><p>“Yer gonna eat. Open your mouth. Open it!” Erik clenched his jaw tight, staring up at Driver with deadened eyes as the man tried to pry his teeth apart. He grew more and more frustrated with each attempt, finally swinging his fist and stunning Erik into letting his mouth drop open. He felt a spoon enter his mouth and deposit a large wad of gruel on his tongue. “Swallow. Swallow!” Erik choked and cried and coughed his way through a few more spoonfuls of gruel, the skin around his eye all black and blue by the time they finished. He missed the little girls. They were so much gentler about feeding him, even when they accidentally gave him too much.</p><p>That night Erik watched the Driver snore. He wondered if he could manage to throw /himself/ off of a bridge this time. He felt so exhausted and depressed. He wanted this horrible sorrow to end. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he did not notice the sound of quiet footsteps approaching behind him until they stepped right over him. He recognized those bare feet. </p><p>BANG. </p><p>“Didn’t I tell ya I’d hurt those who hurt my family?”</p><p>And just like that, Michael grabbed the reigns of the stubborn stallion of Erik’s fate and redirected it to his ranch once again.</p>
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